Life 2
by solista
Summary: Life is ever changing... go with it, the Lancers are beginning to understand.


Life 2

"_**I have a simple philosophy:**_

_**Fill what's empty.**_

_**Empty what's full.**_

_**Scratch where it itches."**_

_**(Alice Roosevelt Longworth)**_

Johnny Madrid Lancer never asked for much in life... hell he never had any grand ideas for the future.

Just live for the day... 'Cause tomorrow may find you face down in the dirt with your blood nourishing the dry earth.

Sitting his palomino horse over looking the valley below, he smiled... at nineteen years of age, he may make it to tomorrow.

Looking back on his memories just a short five years ago... he was only fourteen and hell bent on a destructive future.

However at the time it was an accumulation of hate, anger, and revenge, nothing else mattered but he become the best, someone to fear or respect he didn't care which.

From his earliest recollections, he had always been fast on his feet and clever in his mind. Both had saved his 'bacon' many times.

Therefore, the child became the man almost overnight... an orphan in the blink of an eye. All the wrong done to him, all the pain inflicted on him made him who the child became, a pistolero, the fastest, coldest dealer of death on the border.

He was 'good at his trade' and had pride in a job well done.

"_**We must be willing**_

_**to let go of the life we hav**__e __**planned,**_

_**so as to have the life**_

_**that is waiting for us."**_

_**(E. M. Forster)**_

L

Scott Lancer had his own demons and nightmares to over come, but coming 'home' to Lancer had helped heal a gap in his life.

A father whom he had never met, falsehoods told by his grandfather, a bitter old man... but a man who loved his grandson, a stint in a confederate prison marked his soul.

Here in the still unsettled west, California to be exact had opened his eyes to a new way of life... a life he was growing accustomed.

Still annoyed at the amount of dirt he accumulated on his clothes. His body, dripping in perspiration, made him feel like he had taken a bath in mud.

Chuckling to himself, he thought back to the stream he and his brother had cleaned out just yesterday.

Mud, rotting vegetation and the inevitable cow manure had made for a very interesting workday, the horses shied away from the stench as the brothers mounted to return home, but they laughed as finally the animals gave in, probably thinking of fresh hay and grain back at the barn.

Scott sighed, his face brightening; his blue grey eyes danced... brother.

That one single word meant the world to him. As a child growing up in the lap of Boston society, his wants and needs taken care of, his education already designed and his future on a premeditated course.

It was only one thing the young scion of Bostonian society truly wished, dreamed, one time even begged for... a brother.

A younger brother, someone to guide and defend, some one to play with, to help get into and out of trouble, some one to 'love' him.

Grandfather tried, but he was 'old' and did not understand.

Scott needed someone to tolerate his faults, to believe in his dreams and help him achieve his goals. A brother could do all that and still love him for who he was.

"_**Our life always expresses**_

_**the result of our**_

_**dominant thoughts"**_

_**(Soren Klerkegaard)**_

L

Murdoch Lancer sat behind his big oak desk in the Lancer hacienda, his chair swiveled to look out of the full-size window onto his 'kingdom'.

Out there men worked, animals grazed and the grasses grew...out there were his sons his legacy.

His thoughts closed out the daily activity of the ranch and drifted to the day he had decided to send for his 'grown' sons.

He had been afraid...would his sons want anything to do with a wayward father. Could he be a father to two men growing up away from Lancer?

Fear, something Murdoch Lancer did not condone. A young man from Scotland, what did he really know about America? Only what he had read in books, and gleaned from the sailors and travelers on the great ship, which brought him here. A land welcoming dreamers, a land to make a legacy come true and a land the name of Lancer would be known and respected.

Paul O'Brien, friend of many years, his first segundo and confidant... he was the driving force to send for the Lancer heirs and convinced his 'patron' that Murdoch Lancer may be omnipotent on the estancia, but he was only one man... a man in need of his family, his sons.

Together the old friends contacted a detective agency, the Pinkertons, well known for 'finding their man'.

Scott the eldest was no secret, truth be told any letters or telegrams from California were intercepted a more 'direct' approach was needed.

Johnny, the younger son was a mystery... after his mother left her marriage vows and husband she vanished into the border towns of Mexico taking the small two-year-old boy.

The great Murdoch Lancer was devastated; the loss of his first wife in childbirth and the abduction of his first-born son by a bitter, grieving father was life changing.

Finding a second chance at love and a family the lonely rancher found Maria... a bright candle in his darkness.

Maria was a shooting star bright and beautiful... exciting but young and full of her own dreams. To be trapped on a ranch with cows for company was not her dream.

The birth of the Lancer heir gave the disillusioned young woman joy, and she remained for two years... a wife and mother, but she needed, desired more.

He came... suave, handsome and exciting... offering her the world. Undercover of darkness she left her marriage vows and stole the one thing the rancher loved more than life itself... his dark haired, blue-eyed boy.

The Pinkertons were true to their word, they found Scott Lancer with no problem. The blue-eyed younger son was proving difficult and illusive.

The death of Maria Lancer had the detectives spinning their wheels... the 'boy' had vanished.

It had taken them sixteen years, but the Pinkertons never gave up... it was after all a matter of honor; they would find the Lancer heir... alive or dead.

Murdoch took a sip of his coffee and grimaced, it had turned cold.

Setting the cup on his desktop his mind wandered back to the day he held the letter from the Pinkerton Detective Agency in his trembling hands, his friend Paul beside him.

L

Paul took the letter from Murdoch's hand and read it silently, "They are sure of this?"

Murdoch nodded, not saying a word... defeat, disgust, hate swept over the man's face.

"The proof is coming in a detailed report. Murdoch wait and read it, don't make decisions until they are based on fact," Paul watched his friend closely, Murdoch could be quick to condemn... he had changed when Maria left.

Paul folded the letter and placed it on the desk, "I'll leave you alone... if you need to talk..."

Murdoch looked up, recognition in his eyes, "Oh... yes thank you Paul."

Turning, the segundo left his patron to his own thoughts and shook his head... 'My God, our Johnny the sweet blue eyed little toddler was only sixteen now. Sixteen and had a legend and reputation as one of the fastest pistoleros on the border. What happened to the boy and Maria, that beautiful vibrant woman, was dead. Life was cruel and liked to play tricks. Look at his own life, his wife running off to fulfill her dreams, leaving a beautiful daughter. Life was indeed cruel and heartless'.

"_**When we remember **_

_**we are all mad,**_

_**the mysteries disappear**_

_**and life stands explained"**_

_**( Mark Twain)**_

L

Seven o'clock, the large grandfather clock in the hall chimed. The footfalls of the men of Lancer could be heard from different parts of the hacienda to merge in the great room's dining table.

Murdoch from his 'study', Scott from upstairs and the door slammed open then shut and Johnny appeared.

Dusting the straw and oats from his shirt he grinned at his father and brother, "Whooee that little colt is gonna be some fine animal. I think he'll be a good stud when he grows up."

Slipping into his chair he pushed a hand through his thick dark hair, "What?" Johnny was concerned when no one spoke and just stared at the younger man, "Did I get here too late, supper over...what..."

Scott chuckled, Murdoch held up one hand, "Nothing son... everything's fine."

Scott picked up his folded napkin popped it open with a firm hand and laid the cloth over his lap, "It's just sometimes when you enter a room it's like a small twister."

"Yes and you bring all the dirt and dust with you," Teresa admonished as she and Maria brought the bowls of food to the table.

Maria had her dishtowel tucked into her apron, after depositing the bowl of peas in front of her Juanito she flipped the towel out and began wiping a spot of dirt from his face.

Johnny pulled back, his neck and face a little darker as a blush rolled up his features, "Dios madrecita, I ain't no kid."

"Si Juanito, but you are mi corazon, so be still." After a final brush of the cloth, the housekeeper left the room.

Johnny brushed at his cheek and reached for the bowl of potatoes, deliberately bypassing the peas.

After his brother's request to 'pass the peas' Johnny picked up the bowl and shoved it with disgust on his face.

Murdoch smiled; his younger son never did like most vegetables, though both Marias tried their best, most of the time the food ending up on the floor, on the boy, and on the two women. He had learned to stay away from the fracas.

Now was much too late to admonish and cajole the boy, but Maria was persistent her Chico would eat what was good for him.

Teresa began the light table talk, her exuberant chatter chased any bad thoughts away, and the men just smiled.

L

"_**The most important thing**_

_**is to enjoy your life**_

_**to be happy**_

_**it's all that matters."**_

_**(Audrey Hepburn)**_

Teresa O'Brien, ward to Murdoch Lancer, self-proclaimed 'sister' to the two Lancer sons was happy. She had a home, three men who loved her unconditionally and she was content.

Her father's death was the turning point of her becoming a woman before her time.

She would only change the fact of her father's death, if she could still have all this and him.

Murdoch was like a father to her and she was grateful to him, she knew he was ill equipped to be a father and she knew he harbored just a little resentment that she was here and his sons were not.

He never showed it or said anything to her... but she knew. Now the boys were home, the man became a father, the boys became sons and she was a sister and daughter to the Lancer men.

She dared anyone to contradict that they were a family, blood and heart bound them together... life was good.

L

Maria put the last pot to air dry in the rack. She wiped her wrinkled work worn hands on her towel, and smiled. Her familia was together once more.

Life had been cruel to the patron and his hijos, but tomorrow was always another day. Where they once spent each day alone and longing for something else, they were now together... learning of each other... finding love for each other and living life as it was meant to be as a family.

She hung the damp cloth on the peg by the sink, blew out all but one lamp and walked to the kitchen door as her primo, Cipriano, came to escort her home.

Smiling as she closed the door to the peal of laughter from the great room and an answering bellow of lighthearted admonishment by the patron. Life was good once more.

"_**Life is like dancing.**_

_**If we have a big floor,**_

_**many people will dance.**_

_**Some will get angry when the **_

_**rhythm changes.**_

_**But life is changing **_

_**all the time."**_

_**(Miguel Angel Ruiz)**_

Live life to the fullest.

solista 10/13


End file.
